Chapter 18 Frannie
Frannie wanted to lay down and D-I-E, die.
She’d cleaned cabins for four hours. She swept the plank floors, took garbage to the bear-proof cans, and scrubbed out the ducks while holding her breath. It was beyond disgusting.
“Okay, let’s get cleaned up before we miss dinner.” Jerrylynn poked her in the ribs. “Race you to the rat trap!”
Frannie watched Jerrylynn dart up the trail. Her feet were killing her and she could barely move, how was Jerrylynn still as perky as a cheerleader?
When she got to the cabin, it was teeming with girls, most of them in their underwear and all of them talking.
Jerrylynn saw her and shouted over the racket.
“Girls, this is Frannie, she’s the new Sherry.
” The girls around her said exuberant hellos.
Somebody turned up the radio and everybody started singing along to “Teenager in Love.”
Frannie looked down at her own clothes, sweat-stained and spattered with who-knows-what. Then at the girls dressing and undressing, nobody taking notice of anybody. Okey dokey. If everybody else was doing it she would, too.
Ten minutes later, the pack of girls was trooping out of the rat trap and down the trail toward the lodge.
That’s when a gang of boys joined them, all of them whooping it up.
She’d hoped to see Sam, the cute one who looked like he was in college, but it was Paul—the one with glasses—who fell into step beside her. “How was your first day?”
“Cool,” she said. She wasn’t about to admit that she’d gagged a dozen times while emptying the ducks. “What’s your job?”
“I’m a pack rat.”
“A what-rat?”
“A porter.” He laughed. “I help the dudes carry luggage and gear to their cabins, get the camp stoves working, stuff like that. Last year, I was a pearl diver.” He answered her questioning glance, “A dishwasher. So this is a step up.”
“You were here last year?” Frannie wasn’t sure if she’d last another day.
“It’s my third season,” he answered. “I’ll come every summer until they don’t let me anymore.” He leaned closer and whispered, “Honestly, they wouldn’t even have to pay me.”
Maybe Paul was a couple cards short of a full deck but she was too tired to figure it out. She just wanted something to eat and to go to sleep for a year.
She followed the whole gang through the lobby, now busy with families coming in from sightseeing, past the souvenir shop on one side and the Haynes photo shop on the other.
The cafeteria was like the one at her high school, and all the kids lined up with trays to get servings of hamburgers, green beans, and mashed potatoes.
She filled her tray, then looked at the tables with a sick lurch in her middle that had nothing to do with hunger.
All the kids were sitting in groups and laughing together.
What if she had to sit by herself, like when she first went to high school and didn’t have any friends?
It had taken two years and plenty of pranks to get in with Jonny and his gang.
“Hey, Frannie!” Jerrylynn waved at her from a table by the windows. “I saved you a seat.”
Frannie felt a rush of relief and sat down with Jerrylynn and a couple other girls.
Paul sat across the table with Sam, the cute one, and the other boy she’d met but couldn’t remember his name.
“Thanks,” she said to Jerrylynn, trying not to sound as relieved as she felt.
They all dug in like they hadn’t seen food in days.
The boys goofed off, keeping everybody in stitches, competing to see how many cartons of milk they could guzzle.
“I have to scoot,” Jerrylynn said as they shoved their empty trays through an opening to the kitchen. “I’m in the show tonight.”
“What’s the show?” Frannie asked.
Jerrylynn pointed to the stage on one side of the dining lodge. “It’s different every night. Sometimes it’s a song and dance number, or skits. Last night of the season, the guys borrow the girls’ dresses and try to win a beauty pageant. It’s a riot. Last year, Sam took home first prize.”
Frannie wasn’t surprised. Sam was a cutie patootie.
An old lady with white hair and glasses snagged Frannie’s elbow. “You’re the new girl?” she asked, and without waiting for an answer, “Can you sing?”
“I was in the church choir,” Frannie said, then realized how lame that sounded. Before she could say wait-a-minute, she was on stage with a mimeographed sheet titled “The Dinner Bell Song,” singing to the guests as they filed into the cafeteria.
After the dudes sat down to eat, Jerrylynn and some boys put on a skit about an unlucky tourist and a bear encounter. Sam played the bear and had everyone roaring. Then a five-piece band came onstage and everybody—savages and dudes—started dancing.
“Come on, new girl.” Sam pulled her out on the floor to do the bunny hop.
Suddenly Frannie’s feet didn’t hurt and she was having a blast. She jumped into one dance after another until everybody had their arms around each other’s shoulders, singing the last song.
She didn’t know the words but managed the chorus of, “Yellowstone, Yellowstone, best place I’ve ever known. ”
Then they were walking back to the rat trap, with the stars and the mosquitoes out in full force.
The boys shouted goodbyes as they veered onto the trail to the dungeon.
Jerrylynn linked her arm with Frannie’s, and a girl named Vicky did the same on her other side.
“So, Frannie,” Jerrylynn said, “What did you think of your first day at Canyon?”
Frannie looked at her new supercool friends—one on each side. “I think I died and went to heaven.”
“Up and at ’em!”
It was still dark when Frannie came awake, her nose cold from the bite of the morning air.
A mosquito whined near her ear and she pulled the blanket over her head.
Just a few more minutes of blessed sleep.
The singing and dancing after dinner were terrific, but the thought of another day emptying ducks wasn’t thrilling.
The girls around her began to stir. She rubbed her eyes and put her feet on the cold floor. How could it be so hot during the day and so cold in the morning?
Vicky was wiggling out of her pajamas and into a pair of pedal pushers. “Remember, Frannie-pants, we’re going up to Mount Washburn after our shifts.”
“What for?” Frannie asked. She kept her blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she sorted through her clothing for something kind of clean.
“Initiation.”
Frannie gave Vicky one raised brow. She’d perfected the look in front of the mirror at home and was pretty proud of it. “What’s that?”
“Just something everybody in our gang does.” Vicky pulled a sweater over her head. “The boys are coming,” she added.
“I’ll be there.” Frannie had been wanting a reason to wear her new short shorts and Sam was it. He was the best-looking boy of the whole bunch.
After cleaning a million cabins, Frannie and Vicky raced back to the rat trap that afternoon. “We have time for a shower if we hurry.” Vicky grabbed a towel from the clothesline.
“I was going to call my sister,” Frannie said. Claire was probably worried sick. Twig had told her she could use the telephone in the lodge office, but she had to be there before he locked up at five.
Vicky was already heading out the door. “Suit yourself,” Vicky said over her shoulder.
Frannie hesitated. A shower would be divine, and she wanted to look her best for Sam.
“Wait for me.” She grabbed her shorts and a shirt and ran to catch up.
She followed Vicky to a concrete-block building set off from the west-side cabins.
A strong odor of mildew came from the row of showers with flimsy plastic curtains.
“It’s freezing!” Frannie yelped when she stepped into the spray of water.
“Then make it quick,” Vicky said unhelpfully.
“You’re late,” Sam said when they met the boys in the parking lot. “But whoo-whee.” He took a look at Frannie. “Worth waiting for.”
Frannie’s cheeks warmed. She’d bought the short shorts at the beginning of the summer and wore them for all of ten minutes before Dad went stark raving mad. Now, she could wear whatever she wanted and be friends with whoever she liked. Sweet freedom.
Frannie’s stomach growled. “What about dinner?” Lunch was a long time ago. “And where’s Jerrylynn?”
Ernie held up a sack. “Got sandwiches from the kitchen. And some bottles of soda. Plus a little something from Hamilton’s.” He grinned. Hamilton’s was the tourist store across the canyon that had everything from batteries to beer.
“Jerrylynn didn’t want to play hooky from the show tonight.” Vicky hopped in the back seat of a cherry-red Chevy convertible. “She’s such a dweeb.”
Ernie and Sam crowded into the front seat, and Paul—Frannie saw with surprise—slid into the driver’s seat.
“So where are we going?” She slid in next to Vicky. She didn’t want to ask too many questions and sound like a nervous Nellie.
Vicky smirked and exchanged a look with Sam. “That’s for us to know and you to find out.”
Frannie wished Vicky had stayed at the lodge instead of Jerrylynn.
Sam passed around a bottle of beer and they approached a concrete bridge that crossed the Yellowstone River.
The bridge was narrow—too narrow for two cars to pass—and Frannie looked across the span, wondering what they’d do if a car came from the opposite direction.
“Come on, Paul,” Ernie said, taking a swig of beer. “Put the pedal to the metal.”
Paul ignored Ernie’s jibe and slowed to check for cars before driving across the bridge. Frannie knew who the square was then. “Hey, give me a taste of that.” She held out her hand for the beer.
“See,” Vicky said to Ernie. “I told you she was cool.”
Frannie took a swig. It tasted terrible, but she smacked her lips like it was good. They drove for at least an hour, singing along to the staticky radio. Paul pulled the car over on a wide lookout where a sign said Lava Creek. “Come on, kids,” Sam said. “We’re wastin’ daylight.”
They hiked for what seemed like forever.
While they walked through woods and over a rickety footbridge, they passed the beer and kidded around.
Sam and Ernie were a panic and a half, but Paul was something else.
“See this ridge of rock up here?” he asked, pointing to the dun-colored rock cliffs that rose above the dense blue-green forested slopes. “That’s dolomite.”
“Okay, nerd,” Vicky said, and the boys laughed.
Paul was nerdy, but Vicky rubbed Frannie the wrong way.
Paul didn’t seem to care about the jabs.
“The dolomite shows that this whole area was made by volcanoes. And that volcano is still down there. Waiting. If it goes, this whole place—” He waved his hands to take in all of Yellowstone, then made an explosion sound.
“It would make the A-bomb look like a firecracker.”
“Thanks for the geology lesson,” Sam said. “But it’s summer and we’re not in school.”
Frannie hadn’t known about the volcano under Yellowstone and thought it was pretty interesting, but what was Paul doing with this group of ultracool kids when Sam and Vicky didn’t even seem to like him?
The sun was lowering when they reached a shallow creek trickling through huge boulders.
They trooped over a smooth slab of rock and Ernie came to a stop at a steaming egg-shaped pool about five feet across and who knew how deep.
“This is what they call Dead Savage Spring,” Ernie announced.
“You don’t have to be Einstein to figure out why. ”
Frannie’s heart tripped up a bit. “Is it dangerous?”
Ernie looked at her with a grin. “That’s the point, Sherlock.”
Frannie tried to look unimpressed, but a twinge of unease vibrated through her chest.
“You get to jump in,” Vicky said. “That’s the initiation.”
Frannie remembered about the kid who’d fallen in hot springs at that place Claire took them to. She looked at Sam and Vicky—and wished Jerrylynn had come along. She shot a glance at Paul and felt a little better. Paul was smart. If he did it, it must be safe.
“We’re going to count, and you jump,” Sam said with a slur to his voice.
“In my clothes?” Frannie said.
“Unless you want to skinny-dip.” Sam leered and Ernie laughed.
“Don’t be such a jerk, Sam.” Paul spoke up. “She doesn’t have to do it if she doesn’t want to.”
“Shut up, egghead,” Sam said. “You wouldn’t even take the plunge.”
“Wait,” Frannie said, stepping back from the steaming water. “Then how did he get in the gang?” Maybe there was another way.
“Because he has the car, of course,” Ernie said.
Frannie didn’t have a choice. Unless she wanted to sit by herself at lunch and not have anybody to dance with after dinner.
“Don’t be a chicken,” Vicky prompted. She started to cluck and Ernie and Sam joined in, flapping their elbows.
Frannie couldn’t back down now. She toed off her sneakers. “Okey dokey,” she said, trying to pretend her heart wasn’t beating like a drum. “Dead Savage Spring, here I come.”